


Reciprocity

by purple_cube



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was always told to play the long game. For once, it pays off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> For imaginary_iby for the help_chile auction in 2010. Kindly beta'd by the wonderful bluejbird.

**1\. The Handshake**  
  
 _Rising (Part I)_  
  
“Me, I like Ferris wheels, college football and anything that goes more than two hundred miles an hour.”  
  
She seems sceptical – he can't really blame her. Though John's pretty sure that there's a smile tugging at her lips, and gets his reward a moment later.  
  
“Each morning before dawn our people drink a stout tea to brace us for the coming day. Will you join us?”  
  
*  
  
 _Stout_ is one word for it.  
  
Sitting opposite him at the table, Teyla's laugh is hearty as he lowers the cup from his lips – and she catches his poorly masked grimace. John attempts to look appropriately sheepish.  
  
“It is not amenable to all tastes,” she concedes kindly.  
  
“No,” he admits, apologetic.  
  
He sighs, the metal cup returning to the table with a clatter before he leans forward. Slowly, he stretches his right arm along the surface toward her.  
  
“Look, Teyla,” he begins, before clearing his throat lightly. “Colonel Sumner can be a little...abrupt, and he's under a fair amount of pressure right now. But I think it's important for you to know that we really appreciate what you're doing for us.”  
  
Her confusion is evident. “You mean our agreement to trade? If so, then you should understand that this is only a partnership in principle. After all, we have yet to discuss precisely what each party can trade and how useful it will be to one another.”  
  
“Sure,” he shrugs, not for the first time wondering how to get Doctor Weir involved before any serious talks of 'trade' begin. “But I didn't just mean about the whole trade thing – important though it is,” he adds hastily. “It's just that you're the first people we've met since we left our own planet, and it's good to know that we're making friends.”  
  
She tilts her head in surprise. “We have merely extended an offer to trade, Major Sheppard,” comes the careful response. “We have much work to do – on both sides – before we shall be able to call each other _friends_.”  
  
 _Right_ , he concedes silently. _Should've known it wouldn't be that easy._ “Okay, well I guess we'll just have to work on that whole friendship thing. But for now,” he raises his right hand toward her before continuing, “shall we shake on trade?”  
  
Teyla hesitates for a moment before reaching for his hand. “To trade,” comes the agreed pledge.  
  
Her palm is warm in his, the skin beneath his fingertips rougher than it appears; a consequence of a lifetime of working with whatever nature throws her way. Below his thumb he can't prevent an instinctive caress of a recently healed cut.  
  
Her grip tightens in response, her eyes searching his for any hint of motive. Somewhere behind him the dull murmur of conversation resumes, and John becomes acutely aware that they are not alone – and that he is holding a woman in such a way that she appears to be unaccustomed to.  
  
He nods slowly, encouraging her to follow his action, and he mirrors her amused smile as he leads their clasped hands in a slow but brief vertical circle, up and down and then up again.  
  
A moment later the entrance to the tent swishes open, and they both instinctively pull away.  
  
Sumner approaches, and if he is suspicious of their appearance, his expression doesn't betray anything to his subordinate. Instead, the Colonel addresses Teyla, not quite succeeding in masking the accusatory tone.  
  
“You didn't tell us there was an entire city less than a mile away.”  
  
**  
  
 _Rising (Part II)_  
  
Much later, after they enter the City of the Ancestors and the Wraith arrive – just as Teyla's legend foretold – and after they lose Sumner, John has to wonder what the hell he's doing here.  
  
“I haven't made us many more friends out there.”  
  
Elizabeth seems surprised. “No?”  
  
He follows her gaze around the Gate Room as she continues. “Look around you.”  
  
His focus narrows on Teyla as she watches him with a hint of a smile.  
  
“I agree, Major Sheppard.”  
  
As she approaches, he thinks back to that handshake, that promise of something more. She reaches up, both hands coming to rest on his shoulders, and John has just enough time to catch Ford's amused expression before lowering his head to meet hers.  
  
Her forehead is warm against his, and he can't help but close his eyes and savour a moment of serenity after all that has passed for both of them since that handshake on Athos.  
  
Once again the hum of conversation increases around them, and as she pulls away slowly, her warmth doesn't leave him entirely.  
  
“You have earned both my friendship and that of my people. With our help you will make many more friends.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
 **2\. The Kiss**  
  
 _Conversion_  
  
“Should we continue, or do you -”  
  
His bantos rod falls to the floor with a loud clank – though in his mind the sound comes from some far away room. All that John can hear is two heartbeats, hers racing after so much physical exertion, and his, oddly calm in frequency but throbbing louder and more insistent than he can ever remember.  
  
He focuses his mind on her body's rhythm alone. _He_ had pushed her to the limit, _he_ had made her heart beat faster. Her rhythm belongs to him.  
  
And somewhere in the back of mind he is aware of something primal, something untamed. And that something is satisfied in the knowledge that in this moment, Teyla is his and his alone.  
  
He doesn't realise that he's kissing her until they've almost stopped. All at once his senses are hit by her taste, her smell, the feel of her – it's almost too much.  
  
But it isn't nearly enough either.  
  
He has to look away as he steps away from her, his own emotions too much to process. It takes a moment before John can bring himself to look up.  
  
 _Yeah. She's looking pretty freaked out too._  
  
“I'm not really sure just what happened.”  
  
*  
  
There's a part of him that doesn't want to apologise, doesn't want to label what happened as a mistake. But he knows that he has to – he certainly wouldn't have chosen their first kiss to be under such circumstances.  
  
“There's another thing I should probably apologise for.”  
  
She gives him a small but sincere smile. “Give it no further thought.”  
  
John doesn't even try to hide his relief. “Good. I won't.”  
  
“Nice to have you back,” she starts before turning away for a moment. He can see the grin on her face as she turns back and continues, “ _John_ ”.  
  
**  
  
 _Critical Mass_  
  
He's supposed to be overseeing the 'extraction' of Caldwell's Goa'uld, but decides that Elizabeth and Rodney have it covered. Instead, he makes his way to Teyla's quarters.  
  
She takes a moment to open the door. Still dressed as she was for Charin's funeral, she silently moves to one side so that he can enter the room.  
  
John halts after a handful of steps, though he waits until he hears the quiet hiss of the door closing before he turns to face her.  
  
He knows that he should say something, but every thought that comes into his mind just doesn't feel right. And besides, she doesn't seem to mind, stood a few feet away with unfocussed eyes.  
  
Instead, he approaches her. She doesn't register his movement though, not until he is close enough to reach out and delicately grasp the long cuff of her sleeve.  
  
Startled, Teyla instinctively leans away from him. Then, as though seeing him in the room for the first time, she reaches up for him, bringing him into her traditional embrace. For the first time her skin is cooler than his, and John stifles a shiver.  
  
They stay like this for longer than they have done previously. _Then again_ , John notes, _this is the first time in private_.  
  
Eventually, with her head still, Teyla drops one hand to his hip before reaching for his jawline with the other. Her grip on his waist tightens slightly as she adjusts her balance to tip-toe to reach him.  
  
John holds his breath as her lips graze his cheek, afraid that any movement on his part might scare her away. Despite this, it's over before he has time to savour her touch.  
  
“Thank you,” she offers quietly as she steps away.  
  
“I didn't do anything,” he shrugs.  
  
“You are here. That is enough.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
 **3\. The Connection**  
  
 _Common Ground_  
  
The pain John feels when the Wraith feeds on him is unlike anything he's ever experienced. Every nerve, every muscle, every organ in his body feels the strain of energy – of life – being wrenched from him.  
  
When it stops, he doesn't dare look up at the camera. Even though he can't see them, he feels their eyes on him; Elizabeth's, Rodney's, Ronon's. Teyla's. They'll all be watching.  
  
When he is returned to his cell, he imagines how his life in Atlantis will change. They'll probably joke about Zimmer frames and thick spectacles, but it will be too close to the truth for his liking. Someone will have to take his place on the team. He might even get sent back to Earth.  
  
But that's all assuming that he gets out of here first, and away from Kolya.  
  
*  
  
The final feed doesn't hurt so much, his nerves still numbed by the previous time.  
  
“Finish it,” he instructs the Wraith.  
  
“As I told you, John Sheppard, there are many things about Wraith that you do not know.”  
  
The pain is as intense as the first time, but he can sense that it's different somehow. When the pain subsides, he realises what has been done to him. _For_ him.  
  
“The gift of life is reserved only for our most devout worshippers ... and our brothers.”  
  
After he orders them to leave his new 'brother' alone, John steals a look at Teyla. Unmasked, her expression betrays exactly what she feels in that moment. Concern. Relief. Regret.  
  
*  
  
He needs to talk to her about it, about what he felt.  
  
Her quarters are dark as he walks in, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim candlelight. She rises from her cross-legged position on the bed effortlessly, beckoning him to approach. He sits down next to her.  
  
She takes a deep breath before speaking. “So, how does it feel to owe your good health to a Wraith?”  
  
“Weird,” is the honest answer. “Very weird.”  
  
She nods in sympathy.  
  
John turns to face her. “That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he begins. “When he was...restoring me, I felt your presence. I, uh, I felt _you_.”  
  
She doesn't seem as surprised as he had been expecting. “I have felt it before, when we have been aboard Wraith ships,” she explains. She pauses for a moment, reaching for the right words. “Doctor Beckett explained that when a person is fed upon, the Wraith inject an enzyme to...prolong the experience.”  
  
John grimaces at the memory of _that_ delightful conversation.  
  
She continues, quieter. “When Lieutenant Ford captured us, when he injected Ronon and I with the enzyme, I felt different on board the Hive. My _connection_ ” – and they both wince at that word – “with the Wraith felt stronger.”  
  
Now it's his turn to nod sympathetically. “So you feel someone being fed on? Wow. That can't be much fun.”  
  
“No. It is not,” she agrees. She turns, eyes ghosting over his chest for a moment before reaching his face. “But being the one that is fed upon is far worse.”  
  
 _She's right about that_.  
  
**  
  
 _Submersion_  
  
They all know that the geothermal drilling platform is a long shot, but the lure of a limitless power supply is a carrot that they can't afford to ignore. Of course, no one had expected a Wraith Queen to be holding the other end of the stick.  
  
“You are all about to die.”  
  
John's heart sinks. “That does not sound like Teyla.”  
  
“You are all about to die.”  
  
“Teyla,” John warns. “Snap out of it -”  
  
“Wait! She has activated the self-destruct device of the Wraith cruiser. It is set to detonate within two hours.”  
  
His attention turns to the Wraith Queen, still snarling her defiance.  
  
“So. _Not_ an empty threat.”  
  
*  
  
He tells the others to make their way to the crew quarters as he performs one last sweep of the area. When the rescue Jumper gets there he'll tell them to do a round too, but he needs to do this now, for his own piece of mind.  
  
He walks into the quarters to find Teyla sitting next to Elizabeth.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
She gives him a grateful smile. “Much better now that I no longer feel the constant presence of a Wraith.”  
  
He sits down on a nearby bunk. “That was no ordinary Wraith. It took a lot of bullets to take her down.”  
  
Ronon and Elizabeth interrupt, leaving John to steal a quick glance as she answers them and tries to put the issue to bed.  
  
“Well, when there are so many lives at stake, it’s easy to summon the strength.”  
  
It is only then that she meets his eyes. To others, it is an ordinary look. To him, it's an acknowledgement.  
  
 _She felt it too_.  
  
*  
  
It isn't until much later – after their next mission – that she tells him. It's the middle of the night, and they're sat in the Mess Hall having just returned from off-world. Rodney had headed straight for his quarters, eye lids so heavy that John wasn't sure whether he'd make it, and Ronon had managed to polish off some leftovers from the kitchen before waving them both goodnight.  
  
Teyla turns to him. “She could distinguish you from the others.”  
  
His mind immediately conjures up an image of Mera, the leader of the village they visited today. It isn't until Teyla continues that he realises who she is talking about.  
  
“When I probed her mind, I could sense that she thought that you were different. Not that you were like myself, but only that you different from the other humans she had come across.”  
  
“Yeah, I figured as much,” he begins awkwardly, twirling an abandoned cocktail stick on the table. “I felt something after she uh, connected with you the first time. Beckett said something about the bug leaving biomarkers in my system,” he shares for the first time. “He said it was nothing to worry about – so I didn't.”  
  
His attitude amuses her, at least. “I'm sure that Doctor Beckett was right. I just thought you should know. It may influence any future meetings with Wraith Queens.”  
  
John winces involuntarily at that prospect.  
  
“Whether it could be an advantage or disadvantage, well, we can only wait and see.”  
  
“Can you? Tell me apart from the others, I mean,” he clarifies. “'Cos I thought that maybe you felt this _thing_ that I had felt.”  
  
She shakes her head. “If you mean because of my Wraith gene, then no, I cannot distinguish your presence.”  
  
“So what does that mean?” he muses out loud.  
  
“Perhaps that while we both may have a connection with them, neither of us are Wraith?” Teyla smiles. “And for that we should be grateful.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
 **4\. The Hug**  
  
 _The Queen_  
  
“The ship's been secured; we're in no immediate danger; and you're the only one who can fly it.”  
  
“Even in my condition?” Her sarcasm doesn't surprise him, but it sure does sting.  
  
John sighs. “All right, I might have been a little tough on you before.”  
  
“No, you were right.”  
  
Her concession certainly does surprise him, and not for the first time he wishes he had handled the situation better.  
  
“I'm just trying to understand my position.”  
  
“You're still a member of my team,” he reassure her – and himself.  
  
*  
  
Of course, the mission doesn't go as smoothly as he had hoped – it never does. And he could have handled the fact that they had been captured – if it wasn't for Teyla having to expose her child to a Wraith Queen in order to rescue them.  
  
He finds her on the balcony outside the control room, lost in her own thoughts. He should apologise, for the way the mission panned out, and for pretty much everything he's said to her since she told him she was pregnant.  
  
But he starts with something a little easier. “Did you talk to Keller?”  
  
She tells him that everything is fine – physically.  
  
“You were right to question my involvement in this mission. There was a time when I would have laid down my life for you, or Ronon, or Rodney without hesitation. But I have other considerations now.”  
  
“It's understandable.”  
  
Teyla turns to him, and he can see that her eyes are full. “You have no idea how close she came to extinguishing his life.” She pauses for a moment. “If you had hesitated for even a moment...”  
  
Her voice trails away as she slowly makes her way to him. John stays motionless for a moment as her arms take him in, and her head comes to a rest on his shoulder.  
  
And then he responds, carefully holding her against him.  
  
 _Sorry_.  
  
**  
  
 _Quarantine_  
  
“John. Do you have a moment to talk?”  
  
Their conversation is normal, too normal, and he knows that she's still trying to work her way up to the reason that she sought him out in Rodney's lab. He's about to ask – but of course, that's when the bulkhead wall starts its ominous descent, and his panic shifts from her to their surroundings.  
  
A new message flashes across the computer screen: _CATEGORY FIVE QUARANTINE INITIATED_.  
  
John turns to her, his apprehension clear for her to see.  
  
“What?”  
  
He shrugs nervously. “It's just that every time one of these things happens in the movies, the pregnant woman goes into labour.”  
  
She sighs. “I am still a long way from my due date.”  
  
“Yeah,” he reasons with her. “It's the same thing in the movies and then, wham.”  
  
“Relax, John. I will be fine.”  
  
A little while later, she turns to him, watching her bump with wide eyes.  
  
“Don't tell me that you're, uh...”  
  
Teyla smiles at him softly. “The baby just kicked.”  
  
“Really?” He walks towards her.  
  
She takes his hand and places it on her stomach. He smiles back at her, the subdued kick of a tiny foot echoing through his fingertips.  
  
*  
  
Later, after he's done his best Batman impression and the city's quarantine is lifted, he finds her on the balcony by the Control Room once more. John mimics her position, resting his forearms on the railing as they both look out to sea.  
  
“How's Junior?”  
  
She chuckles. “Kicking once more.”  
  
He moves behind her without thinking, his hands hovering above her stomach before his brain has a chance to register what he's doing.  
  
And then he freezes, not wanting to continue without permission, but not willing to retreat from her personal space either.  
  
Sensing his hesitation, Teyla takes his hands in hers and brings them to her abdomen. Together they follow the baby's movements, fingers loosely twined. When the kicking stops, they both drop their arms, him quickly, her a little slower.  
  
“I should go.”  
  
Turning on his heel, John doesn't wait for a response.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 **5\. The Rescue**  
  
 _Search and Rescue_  
  
She looks beautiful, her hair partially tied up in a style he rarely sees her wear.  
  
“I never got to properly thank you,” she comments above the rim of her wine glass.  
  
He thinks for a moment. “For what?”  
  
“For what?” She seems surprised. “For rescuing me, from Michael. I never gave up hope because I knew. I _knew_ that you would come for me, John.”  
  
He knows he has a bad memory at times, but this is ridiculous. “I know this sounds crazy but...I don't remember...”  
  
He looks away for a moment, the candlelight that surrounds them suddenly increasing in intensity. When he returns, Ford glares back at him, his expression dripping with disappointment. You don't remember rescuing her because you didn't. Just like you never rescued me.”  
  
When he wakes, John physically shakes the imagery of the dream from his mind, knowing that he can't let that thought take a stranglehold. Not now.  
  
*  
  
The Infirmary is busy, though the newest Athosian doesn't seem to notice, cradled in his mother's arms.  
  
“How's the kid?”  
  
“Doctor Keller says he's perfectly healthy.” She smiles down at the baby. “I say he's perfectly everything.”  
  
“That's great.” He looks down at his game, feeling intrusive somehow. “That's great.”  
  
From the corner of his eye John can see her look across at him. “I want to thank you.”  
  
He starts to shake his head. “There's no need.”  
  
“I never gave up hope because I knew.”  
  
His mind's eye immediately returns to the Teyla his dream, forcing him to look up and across to the woman with him _now_.  
  
“I _knew_ that you would come for me, John.”  
  
**  
  
 _The Prodigal_  
  
He knows that he should save the post-mortem for later, but in every lull in the chaos that surrounds him, John is left wondering how the hell Michael even made it into Atlantis.  
  
Up on the ledge surrounded by darkness, Michael has the upper hand – and John knows it. He slumps against the wall, bracing himself for the next hit.  
  
It doesn't come.  
  
John watches mesmerised as Teyla takes on the intruder – and wins. She's angrier than he can ever remember seeing her, and from what he saw on the security cameras, he can't blame her.  
  
As she stands above their adversary, he wonders if she will show mercy.  
  
And perhaps once she would have done. But she doesn't now, kicking away the last of Michael's physical and mental hold on Atlantis.  
  
She turns back to John then, her expression one of steely determination.  
  
It isn't until he calls her name that she steps back from the ledge, coming back to Atlantis, and to him.  
  
She holds her hand out for him, and he takes it gladly. Slowly, and with a lot of help, John gets to his feet.  
  
“Thank you.” He means it. “For rescuing _me_.”  
  
She gives him a small smile. “You would do the same for me.”  
  
  
***  
  
  
 **6\. The Indiscretion**  
  
 _Dinner_  
  
“They're not together any more, you know. Not in that way.” The sound of Ronon's voice cuts through John's thoughts like a knife.  
  
He shakes his head. “Doesn't matter. They're still a family.”  
  
Both men watch the trio for a moment longer, before Kanaan turns to leave without acknowledging them, and Teyla leads Torren to their table.  
  
The S.G.C.'s Mess Hall is smaller than the one on Atlantis, the lack of natural light adding to the already gloomy atmosphere. Torren certainly doesn't seem to mind though, the toddler clambering onto a chair somewhat theatrically, before waiting expectantly for his mother to be seated and ready to feed him.  
  
John greets him with a broad smile. “Blue Jell-O day, huh, Torren?”  
  
“Jey-O!”  
  
“Dessert later,” Teyla admonishes. “Nutritional food first.”  
  
Both men mirror the child's pout in solidarity.  
  
*  
  
He doesn't see much of Teyla or Rodney these days, the former deeply involved in diplomatic talks between the I.O.A. and various countries' politicians, while the latter heads the in-depth scientific exploration of what Atlantis has to offer against the Ori. He and Ronon make up one half of a new SG team and spend most of their time off-world, assessing the level of threat that the Ori still pose. The Gate that they use is theirs, transported from Atlantis as it supersedes the Milky Way Gate, but nothing else about his life is the same.  
  
He plays a small role in saving the day, a cameo to the new SG-1 ensemble, which ultimately leads to an invitation to Washington for all of them.  
  
Dinner is lavish to say the least, and John knows he isn't the only one to feel a little embarrassed by it.  
  
“Now I know why no one wants to go back to Pegasus,” comes the dry observation from Ronon.  
  
Sitting on the Satedan's other side, Woolsey grimaces, but doesn't say anything. John's learnt not to ask either the former Head of the expedition or his – currently, former – Athosian team-mate how the negotiations are going. Their collective silence to Ronon's comment is just another indicator that Atlantis will remain on Earth for a while longer at least.  
  
To his right, Teyla finishes her meal quietly, speaking only to answer questions posed to her, and John finds himself paying more attention to her sobriety than to anything else. When she finishes updating Colonel Carter on Torren's development, she turns to him.  
  
Her gaze falls to his lips. “You have a...”  
  
Before she can finish, he's reaching for the corner of his mouth, his forefinger sweeping across it quickly. Unfortunately he gambled on the wrong side, something he doesn't realise until Teyla leans across and mirrors his action on the left side of his face.  
  
It's harmless, a gesture between friends, and something John's sure could be quickly forgotten by those involved and those who witnessed it.  
  
That is, until he turns to see General O'Neill's curious expression from the other side of the table.  
  
 _Busted_.  
  
*  
  
 _Dance_  
  
He doesn't get a chance to speak to her alone after dinner. So when Teyla catches his eye and cocks her head towards the half-empty dance floor, he can only return her smile and follow her lead.  
  
They've danced together before; slow, fast, laughingly, intricately. But this is the first time they've been _intimate_ , bodies pressed close as his palm rests on the half-exposed small of her back.  
  
“Not quite the Merzian pseudo-Waltz, huh?” he comments, remembering a celebration that had provided much needed respite from their troubles in Pegasus.  
  
She looks up for the first time since he took her hand in his.  
  
“No.” And then she grins. “You have yet to step on my toes.”  
  
John rolls his eyes. “Funny.”  
  
Banter comes easy after that. He tells her about their latest mission and the numerous social faux pas committed by the scientific contingent of his new team. He tells her about the running bet that he has going with Lorne over how soon Ronon will crack and end up shooting – hopefully only stunning – one or both of the scientists and make it out to be an accident.  
  
The music ends all too soon, leaving them standing on the dance floor as the couples around them begin to disperse. Teyla starts to move away, before pausing and leaning towards him again.  
  
“Thank you,” she murmurs before her lips hover over his cheek. Instinctively John turns his head towards her, catching the corner of her mouth with his.  
  
He expects her to pull away, but she doesn't. Eventually, he's the one who straightens, keeping his eyes focussed on her to gauge her reaction – and to avoid any knowing gazes of the audience. Her expression doesn't betray anything, no anger or disapproval, but no surprise or desire either.  
  
He should apologise.  
  
But he knows that he won't.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 **7\. The Beginning**  
  
 _Then_  
  
The fight to return Atlantis to the Pegasus Galaxy is long and difficult and involves far too many politicians for John's liking. But they get there eventually, with Woolsey proving to be critical in tipping the balance in their favour.  
  
They'll never know how much the loss of Atlantis for almost two years contributed to the devastation that greeted them on their return.  
  
The first days and weeks are spent assessing the situation, with as many personnel as possible out on recon. The Gate Room is a hub of activity, and John can't help but smile as he waves up at the balcony, Carter and Woolsey proudly watching over their mishmash of a family.  
  
Almost immediately they discover that the Wraith had, in the absence of any formidable opponent, tightened their choke-hold on the galaxy. Lorne's team is the first to come across the “farms”, not waiting for back-up to race in and free the men, women and children held captive for repeated and systematic feeding. For a while Atlantis' infirmary is more sombre than anyone can remember as the survivors are treated. Progress is slow, but it does come, and it seems as though the city's mood rises with the inhabitants' improving health.  
  
And they learn of the Resistance: the Coalition that had put John's team on trial, the Genii, Larrin's travellers, and a handful more. Not nearly enough to put up a decent fight against a race that was growing stronger every day.  
  
When the accusations and recriminations finally cool, John discovers that the Resistance are tougher than they appear. And with Atlantis' help, they'll be even more formidable. It falls to Woolsey to suggest that they all come to the city and use it as a base for their operations, an offer which is gladly accepted.  
  
*  
  
Sunlight streams into the gym, and the room comes to life with activity for the first time since they left the Pegasus galaxy for Earth. This section of the city had been cordoned off during their time in the Milky Way, deemed irrelevant to the I.O.A.'s quest for scientific advancement.  
  
They're both rusty, not having sparred with each other or anyone else for two years.  
  
John goes on the attack, forcing Teyla backward for a moment. But then he stretches himself too far forward, and she ducks and swivels to avoid him. He loses sight of her – and then knows exactly where she is as a stick comes down sharply on the small of his back.  
  
He groans loudly, and is relieved when she retreats and gives him time to recover.  
  
“You must move quicker,” comes the instruction.  
  
John huffs. “I'm not getting any younger, Teyla.”  
  
“Nor am I,” she reminds him. “That should not be an excuse to, how would you say it? Ah yes, 'slack off'.”  
  
With that she launches herself at him, bantos rods flying through the air faster than he his mind can register. Through sheer luck he manages to deflect most of her shots, but eventually one sneaks through and hits his wrist. John drops the wooden stick reflexively.  
  
Defiantly, he jumps back and holds his remaining weapon up for her to see. He makes a show of moving his injured arm behind his back, before beckoning her to attack once more.  
  
She does. This time he concentrates harder, establishing a vague pattern of attack and anticipating her next move. He dodges a lunge quickly enough to give himself some leeway, and uses the time to launch himself forward and use his weight to disturb her balance, and push her along the six feet to the nearest wall.  
  
“Hey, would you look at that.” He grins as he looks down at their eerily familiar position. “It's only taken me five years to beat you again.”  
  
“So it would seem,” she responds with mock concern. “Is there something you would like to share with me, John?” An eyebrow is raised as she continues. “An insect bite, perhaps?”  
  
She can't hold back any longer, and her body convulses with laughter. John finds a grin breaking out on his own face a moment later.  
  
“Hilarious.”  
  
His bantos rod drops to the floor, and the sound seems to jolt both of them. He can take a pretty good guess at what she's thinking, and he's about to tell her not to worry about history repeating itself. But she shifts before he can speak, freeing her hands from the cavity between their chests, and releasing her own weapons.  
  
“My turn,” she whispers above the dull clank of wood on the floor as she reaches up for him. Her actions mirror his of five years ago, her palms coming to rest against his cheeks and her fingertips slowly caressing his temple. And then her mouth moves closer to his, stopping just short in hesitation.  
  
He doesn't allow her the luxury of second thoughts though, pressing forward to meet her. Unlike before, this kiss is slow and unhurried, giving them time to savour each other. She tilts her head slightly, granting him better access to deepen the kiss.  
  
When they stop, John presses his forehead against hers, a promise of a different kind. They stay motionless for a few moments, before he starts to run his fingers deliberately along her arms.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Checking for insect bites...obviously.”  
  
He expects some sort of reproof, but instead is rewarded with a more _suggestive_ expression.  
  
“Perhaps a more _thorough_ investigation may be conducted later?”  
  
*  
  
 _Now_  
  
John has to wait a few days for 'later' to arrive, when Torren is on his scheduled visit to New Athos and to his father. He tentatively suggests dinner as they finish their respective check-ups in the infirmary, and receives a quick nod of assent before they are interrupted by Carson.  
  
She arrives at his quarters just as he has finished lighting the candles.  
  
“I had this dream once,” he admits sheepishly. “A couple of years ago. You and me, candlelight, wine, the works.”  
  
“I see,” comes the amused reply. “And how did this dream end?”  
  
He shrugs, remembering the guilt he felt at not having found her, or Ford. “Not well.”  
  
He turns away to pour the wine into two glasses. Facing her again, John reaches out to give her the drink. “But this? This isn't a dream.”  
  
“No,” she agrees as she brings the glass close to her lips. “It is not.”  
  
*  
  
Conversation comes easily over dinner, and it's only when the last drop of wine has been poured that John feels a change in the air between them.  
  
“We've been friends for seven years,” he muses out loud. “It should be easier than this.”  
  
Teyla watches him for moment before nodding her head once. “You're right.” And with that she gets to her feet and moves around the small table.  
  
Her touch is light as she bends to meet him, turning his head to hers for a gentle kiss. Silently she takes his hand in hers as she straightens, beckoning him to get to his feet. He does, before following her to the small bed.  
  
“Should've asked for an upgrade,” he mutters, not for the first time wondering how Rodney had managed to acquire a bigger bed before him hours before they made the journey back to Pegasus.  
  
She smiles as she turns, the back of her knees flush against the mattress as she pulls him closer. “We'll make do.”  
  
Their kisses are unhurried, but their melded bodies pulsate with an increasing rhythm, betraying an underlying sense of urgency. Eventually he uses his weight to push her down onto the bed, planting his hands either side of her head at the last minute to prevent himself from landing on top of her.  
  
Now their kisses are more insistent, the pressing of each body into the other much more purposeful. Her deft fingers make light work of his shirt buttons, allowing the piece of clothing to be discarded quickly. When John finds himself down to his underwear a few minutes later, he makes a point of slowly running his gaze across her still fully-clothed body.  
  
“Not fair,” he complains. “Not fair at all.”  
  
Teyla laughs. “Very well,” she concedes, sliding aside. John lowers himself to take her place, pushing further up the mattress so that he can lay his knees flat. She shifts to sit astride him, watching his face pointedly as she removes her top.  
  
John moves his hands to support his head, and Teyla chuckles at his casual demeanour.  
  
“Enjoying the show?”  
  
“Absolutely,” he admits with a grin.  
  
He feels the rush of cold air when she leaves him a moment later, standing to remove the rest of her clothing. When she returns to straddle him once more, this time naked, John gasps at the heat that envelops his body.  
  
He starts to use his weight to turn them both onto their sides, with the intention of switching their positions. But she pins him down strongly, her grip tight around his wrists.  
  
She shakes her head. “No.”  
  
“ _No_?”  
  
She lowers her upper body, watching him deliberately before running her tongue along his jawline. He shivers.  
  
“Not this time.”  
  
John smiles widely as she nudges her way into the crook of his neck, trailing light kisses in her wake, taking her comment as a promise of more.  
  
Teyla plays with him for some time, occasionally gripping one or both wrists tightly as a reminder of who is in charge. Eventually she removes his shorts, and John can only describe her touch of his skin beneath as exquisite torture.  
  
It seems like forever before she finally takes him in, surrounding him physically and mentally. John's field of vision narrows to her and her alone.  
  
She moves almost too slowly than he can handle, and it isn't until her moves his own fingers to the point at which their bodies meet that he is able to relieve some of his own tension as well as hers. When he feels her losing her control, John bends his knees behind her to provide support, watching delightedly as she leans back against him and gasps in pleasure. He fights the urge to push up into her, waiting until she leans over him once more, watching his expression intently as she rides him much faster than before. He reaches his own climax with a low groan, never once taking his eyes off hers.  
  
When he gets his breath back, Teyla slips down onto the mattress beside him, and he shuffles to make room for her. Lying on her stomach, a shoulder overlapping with his, she delivers him a quick smile before turning her head to face the window. A minute later she moves on to her side and even further away from him, and he responds swiftly to push up against her, his palm moving across to rest against her stomach, fingers gently caressing the base of her breast.  
  
He _feels_ rather than _hears_ her surprise intake of breath.  
  
“You are more...tender than I expected, John.”  
  
He thinks about it for a while before responding. “I guess that even after seven years, there are things we still don't know about each other.”  
  
She shifts slightly on her hip, her body pushing gently against his. “I guess so.”  
  
In a little while he'll have to find a blanket to put over them, but for now the combination of their own racing heartbeats and each other's body heat will suffice.  
  
“Welcome home,” he whispers into her hair as he settles down.  
  
“And you.”


End file.
